A Prof's Perspective
by Fernachos
Summary: They are protectors. They are role models. They are shining Beacons against the Darkness. Most importantly, they are teachers, dedicated to training the next generation of guardians. Their classes instruct to prevent future tragedy, but their lessons are forged from tragedies of their own.
1. Ch1 A dash of Port to drown our sorrows

**A/N: **I'll try and keep all notes at the beginning of stories. A little more info on this story: Beacon's teachers have their quirks, but what caused them to have these quirks? Why do they act the way they do in front of their students? How would they act away from their students? This aims to answer most of these questions of some of the more enigmatic professors of Beacon. Mostly one-shots. All reviews are welcome. For suggestions, put them in a review or PM me. Of course, I do not RWBY: all characters, names, and ideas are owned Roosterteeth. Without further ado, I present: A Prof's Perspective.

**Chapter 1: A dash of Port to drown our sorrows**

The alarm went off, heralding the first day of the semester. He reached over and slapped the snooze button. He didn't want to be bothered so early on a Monday.

*beep*

His scroll received a message. He groaned and looked at it.

_G.G.: Don't forget, first class start at 9am today._

"Heaven's sake woman, let a man sleep."

*beep*

Another message.

_G.G: We were able to acquire your "order" for the first period. Expect it delivered to the class at 8:00._

The man looked at his clock.

7:30

He sighed, and crawled out of bed, springs squeaking under his weight as he moved. Today was going to be a long day.

He arrived at the classroom at 7:55, scarfing down a breakfast of pancakes with syrup and a side of fruit, while walking through abandoned corridors. His red coat was only half buttoned as he entered the room.

The first thing he noticed was the large golden bust on a pedestal. He glanced over the bust quickly, barely looking at the likeness to his figure, before his eyes rested upon something small, engraved into the pedestal. His eyes carefully read the inscription.

_Peter Port, Saviour of Moruduun._

_May tales of your deeds and sacrifices spread across the land_

He sighed. How many had died that day? How many gave their lives for his? And this was how they were remembered?

A growl emanated from the far side of the classroom. The man turned to face a steel cage. Red eyes emanating malice met his own, hidden under bushy grey brows. He frowned under his moustache, and walked towards the cage, unconsciously grabbing his weapon as he crossed the room.

He looked in the cage, to see the red eyes covered with bone plates, two ivory tusks jutting out of its jaw.

He gripped the bars hard, his knuckles turning white, even shaking the cage slightly. His weapon raised towards the cage.

"How many? How many have you trampled underfoot? How many have been speared through their hearts? How many have you feasted upon for mere pleasure? How many innocents have fallen to the likes of you!?"

The beast in question, huffed and backed away slightly.

The man grinned maniacally, "How ironic, that one such as you, drawn towards our negativity, should cower away from it when it stares you in the face," he mused, raising his weapon and disengaging the safety.

"I should end you right now. Avenge the lives you have taken. But I won't. As it will not serve me, nor my charges any benefit. You will meet your end today, this I can assure you. But it will not be by my hand. No, you will be a lesson for them. On their journey, they will encounter more like you. This I am certain. But they will not shrivel in fear at the sight of you. No, they will stand up, and charge into battle. They will rid the world of your tarnish, piece by piece, and they will save the lives whom you wish to take. My time to ride the flag into war is over, but theirs has started."

He lowered his weapon, and put it back on its plaque. He could hear the mumble of the students approaching, and he turned to the whiteboard, beginning to draw diagrams. As he finished the last of diagrams, he looked at his handiwork for a moment, before nodding in satisfaction. He turned to face the now full classroom, the bell ringing to signal the beginning of class.

His eyes swept over the congregation. Some of them were already dozing off. Today was going to be a long day. But he didn't mind. He smiled under his moustache, took a deep breath in, and began his tale.

"Monsters. Demons. Prowlers of the night…"


	2. Ch2 A shot of Espresso to dull the pain

**A/N** Ok, I'm gonna establish right now that I won't be a scheduled poster: I'll update sporadically, but you can expect a new chapter within a month until the story is complete or I run out of ideas, those are sorta hand-in-hand right now. Despite this being my first fic, and a fic of one-shots at the moment, I got followers! Wat? I mean, holy [children cover your ears]! Thanks guys, and I love you for your support, but I never expected it so fast! Again, thank you! After this chapter, I have two other characters whom I have no clue what to write about. Any thoughts and suggestions would be much appreciated! Reviews are always welcome, and that's including criticisms: it's the work, not the person being critiqued. Any suggestions, put em in there too! Or PM me with your thoughts. Enough rambling!

**Chapter 2: A shot of Espresso to dull the pain**

"P-professor?"

He looked up from his scroll to see nervous cerulean eyes stare at him.

"Yes Mr. Arc?"

The student took a step back, confused for a moment.

"W-wait, don't you normally…?"

He was tired, and prolonged conversation was starting to irritate him, "What is it that you want Mr. Arc? I'm very busy as you can see, and time is of the essence!"

His student's face changed to determination.

"I won't be able to hand in the 15 page paper about Atlesian military evolution on time."

He sighed, and pressed his palms to his eyes. He was expecting just as much, "Alright, that's fine Mr. Arc. Hand it in as soon as it is opportune for you."

The confusion crept back onto the blonde's face, "R-really? I'm excused?"

He pushed his opaque glasses up his nose, and turned to the boy, "For the time being, I will allow this. From what I've been told, you all have been training very hard for the Vytal Festival and with Hunter missions just around the corner, you are probably stretched thin enough as is. I will grant this one boon, Mr. Arc. Use it wisely, as I don't grant them so freely."

The student perked up at what seemed to be a prayer that had been answered, "Thank you so much! I-I won't let you down Profes…err….Doctor Oobleck!" He dashed out of the room, the doors dramatically bursting open at his ecstatic pace. A smile adorned the student's youthful face while he left dust clouds and echoes of joy in his wake. The doctor swore he heard Handel's "Hallelujah!" playing in the background.

As the doors closed, the doctor audibly sighed. Despite the… odd… scene just he just witnessed, something else was bothering him. He never let them off on homework so easily. Why was it today that he would be so lenient? He ran his hands through his green hair, smirking at a long-ago memory. _Mom never liked me having Dad's hairstyle._

He turned to his paper-filled desk. Academic reports and news articles were strewn around haphazardly, no semblance of order present. On a normal day, they would give him great pleasure, this immense pool of untapped knowledge ready for extraction, but today it made his heart feel empty, cold, and numb.

He pushed his chair back and opened his right drawer, going to take out a shot glass. _Maybe I just need something to pick me up._ He unscrewed his thermos and reached into the drawer, to feel glass…but this glass was flat, unlike the round shot glass he usually kept. Intrigued, the doctor pulled the object out. It was a picture frame of a couple and their child.

The woman had auburn shoulder length hair, her fringe parted in the middle. Distinguishably on her head were a pair of fox ears, a hue darker than her hair. Dark hazel eyes stared at him from behind opaque, white glasses. A smile adorned her features, warmth emanating from her expression. Her white cardigan covered the plain, pale pink dress she wore, that seemed to accentuate her beauty and warmth. A bulge around her stomach indicated she was pregnant, but she still held onto her child with ease and comfort.

The man beside her had wild, green hair, shorter than his own, but in a similar, disheveled fashion. His sky-blue eyes had a sternness to them, but there was an underlying humour underneath the strict gaze, further expressed with his lopsided grin. He wore a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. He wasn't strong by any means, but he had muscle. His dark blue tie loosely hung around his neck, his collar not even buttoned all the way up, and his shirt wasn't tucked into his brown trousers. His right arm wrapped around the woman and tenderly held her right forearm, his other arm reaching down to hold the child's shoulder. The woman had both of her hands on the child's shoulders, her hand overlapping his. Gold bands shined on their left hands.

The child in between them was looking up at his parents, a wide smile plastered on his face. He had messy green hair sticking out like his father, but it was straighter like his mother's. He wore the same glasses his mother wore, although it was difficult to tell from the angle of the boy's face. He was wearing a vibrant yellow polo shirt with blue and white horizontal stripes and navy blue shorts. His energetic smile depicted nothing but happiness.

The doctor could feel the same smile forming on his face. It was his parents and himself, in front of their house. He remembered the big lawn where his father and he would play ball. He remembered his mother reading him books and news articles on the couch in the living room, often sipping from a cup of cocoa. He remembers the pleasant moments with his parents, the happy days of his early life. His gaze fell over bright orange numbers in the bottom right corner.

07' 18' 1984.

_That's today._ The thought came unwanted in his mind. The orange numbers shined brighter, and started flailing about, consuming his thoughts with horrific images. His house was there, but it lit up the night with the same orange. It was burning. He stood there, not knowing what to do. Then a shriek came from inside. His Hunter instincts took over, and he dashed towards the door, only to be held back by powerful arms. He turned around to see his father's face set in a grim expression.

"Papa, let me go, I have to save Mommy!" the doctor cried.

"No! Stay here, I'll get her!" his father replied. His voice was warbled, as if he couldn't hear it properly. _It's the fire, I can't hear him over it! Where's the fire department?!_ He frantically looked down one end of the street, then down the other end. All was quiet.

He turned to see his father in the doorway, looking at him. He met his father's gaze to see those sky blue eyes filled with soul-crushing pain. His lips were turned into a smile, overwrought with sadness. The doctor couldn't hear over the roar of the fire, but he could see what his father was saying, "I love you". Time slowed down, and the noise dimmed. He sprinted towards the house, now free of interference. He was halfway there when his world fell apart. The house caved in on itself, a wave of heat and dust bellowing outwards. The doctor was blown back by the heat, his eyes now tearing from the dust in them. He stared at the burning remains, his heart shattered beyond hope. The tears fell down his face, cool in the wake of the fire.

The doctor sobbed, "W-why? What did they do wrong?" He slumped to his knees, only to slip back into his office chair. _Wait, where am I? _He looked around, to see his classroom once more, his memories fading into the background. _Calm down Bart, you're at Beacon, and the date is… it's __**the**__ date._ He ominously looked at the photo again, to see the same numbers in orange.

His tears were still falling. He shook his head and wiped his eyes, trying to clear his head. _Focus on the task at hand, put your emotions aside._ He repeated, attempting to soothe his troubled soul with his mantra.

He hated himself because he couldn't save them. Their death had been the driving force behind him being a Hunter. He wanted to save them, but he couldn't. Not now. All he could do was save the lives of others, and prevent more lives lost like his parents. He looked back at the news articles to see a blood red symbol on a white flag: the new symbol of the White Fang.

This symbol… he'd seen it before, but where? His mind flashed violently back to the burning house, nothing but a giant bonfire now. He was kneeling, his tears drenching the charred pavement. A pair of black boots came into view. He looked up to see black pants, then a white shirt. Emblazoned on the shirt was the symbol, in bright scarlet. The tall man wore a white mask, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. The most distinguishing feature was his elk horns protruding from his blonde hair. The doctor didn't say anything as the faunus started to laugh at him, "Your pops got what was coming to him. He knew what would happen if he messed with our k-"

He didn't finish as the symbol on his chest exploded, blood spattering the concrete floor and the child kneeling on it. The gunshots echoed into the tragic night. He could barely hear the officers behind him, "was that the White Fang?"

"No, can't be, they've always been peaceful."

"Even animals learn new tricks."

"He didn't even have the right symbol!"

"Whatever, get the kid"

Dizziness started to overtake his vision. He reached out to steady himself. The doctor blinked, to see the empty seats of his classroom once more. _I remember now, it was the White Fang. But, this occurred before they turned violent! What gave them the right to take my family away?! _With rage, his hands tore across his desk, papers flying everywhere. The Faunus were at the root of his grief. It was the damned White Fang that killed his family. They took his father. His sibling-to-be. His mother! He hated those extremists. He hated the White Fang. He hated the Faunus.

_But she was a Faunus too._

He reeled back as he remembered the long, furry ears which would twitch in joy at his presence. He remembered how soft they felt under his tiny hands. His mother smiling and laughing as he laughed when the fur tickled his skin. No, he didn't hate the Faunus. He remembered his mother standing among the protests, proclaiming the need for equality, but having debris thrown at them by the humans. His father's race. HIS race. His neighbourhood was mostly humans. They all knew his parents sympathized with the faunus. After all, they were the ones who never called 911. He tried to hate the humans, but you can't hate what you are. Why couldn't he hate them as they hated each other?

"Why do they hate each other?"

"Papa? Mommy? Why do people hate each other?" he looked at his parents.

His father knelt to him and put a hand on his shoulder, "People don't hate each other, Bart."

"Then why do they throw things at Mommy and the other Faunuses when they walk?"

His mother answered this time, "It's because we're different, honey, that's why they throw things."

"But why?"

His mother smiled, "They think that, because we are different, that we're less than them; that we're beneath them. Does that make sense?"

"Look at it like this: You're not like your pet spider, right?" his son nodded.

"So you're different from it right?" the child nodded again.

"Are you better than it?"

"Of course I am! I can play ball and I can draw and I can read books and play games and watch TV and my spider can't!" the son beamed.

"Just because you can do all those things doesn't mean you're better than it." His mother sagely replied.

The boy looked perplexed, "How does that work?"

His father smiled, "Well, you can do all those things a spider can't, but look at all the things a spider can do that you can't: it can walk on walls, it can spin a web, and it can eat bugs! So that makes it better than you, right?"

"No!" The son cried indignantly.

"So are you better than it?"

"…no…" he looked down, ashamed.

His mother pulled his chin up, to look him in his eyes, "just because we are different does not mean one of us is better than the other. We are all equal, despite our differences. Okay?"

"Okay…"

"Good, now who wants coffee?" she put a thermos on the table. His hand shot up before anyone else, "Can I try mommy?"

She raised an eyebrow and smiled warmly at his father. His father chuckled in agreement, "Why not? You've learned something new today. Something very important. It's called tolerance."

The son looked confused once again, "Tolyrinse?"

His mother giggled, "You'll learn about it again much later Bart. Don't worry, and pour yourself a cup." She placed the thermos in front of him.

He looked at the thermos, then at his smiling parents. He gingerly picked it up, and tilted the head, letting the black liquid flow into the shot glass. He took the glass in his hand, put it to his lip, and in one swift movement, downed the glass in one go.

The jolt of energy he usually felt wasn't there. Instead, it was replaced by a warm feeling that spread out from his heart to every fibre of his being. The smiles of his parents returned to his memory, and he smiled with them. He was awake now, all the pain he had felt overcome by their love. He couldn't save them, but he could save others from the ignorance. He could save others from blind hate. He looked back at his desk, the papers in disarray. A familiar energetic smile made its way to the corners of his mouth. He twitched in excitement and the world seemed much clearer, focused. _One late paper? I can tolerate it._

**A/N** I know I might've said I'd only post at the beginning, but I figured I should post some stuff at the end. First off, a thousand apologies for a lacklustre ending. I had no idea how else to make the story complete. Second off, debunking the myths, so to speak:

Violent White Fang before Vol 1? Nope! Just a small fraction of them. Extremists separated from the main group, hence the Po-po's shock at the one member's actions. They're a splinter group at the moment. Also, mixed marriage would be frowned upon by both humans and Faunuses, but the more extreme individuals show how much they frown upon it.

Mixed background Oobleck: He's a pretty tolerant guy from what I've seen in the show, and some other fanfics I've read view him as an enthusiastic lobbyist of equality (albeit, in secret, cuz status quo and shtuff), so I figured a mixed marriage would most likely be his foundation for such strong ideals. Creative license, so don't sue me please?

I should also let you know I have no clue where this is going. The inspiration was like, "Everyone is human, and has individual experiences which shape who we are, so what about the teachers of Beacon?" Story-wise, expect jumps between different times (e.g. First was Port early season 1, this was Oobleck beginning-to-mid-season 2) As much as I like one-shots, I like a good plot, so I'm thinking of writing a whole other story, not based on the main characters and series but running parallel to it. Remember those henchmen from Vol1. Ep1? Yeah, those would be the main characters. Tell me what you think. Anyways, two Profs down, two to go!

Special thanks to FallDownYourMind for some much needed feedback and criticism.


	3. Ch3 A cup of Tea to stifle guilt

**A/N** I cannot give enough apologies to you guys, who've waited over 2 months for this chapter. I can't express enough how sorry I am. Hopefully you can forgive me but I understand if you don't. I was extremely stumped with this one. Anywho, I started writing details, and then the backstory, and now here we are! I'll leave you to determine the verdict.

"speech"

_Thoughts/past event_

"_past speech"_

_*sound effects*_

**Chapter 3: A cup of Tea to stifle guilt**

"Cardin, that's enough!" She declared from behind the contestants. Well, future contestants. This was only a practice match.

Reluctantly, the mace-wielder lowered his weapon and walked away from the knight splayed on the floor.

She walked up to the front of the arena. She caught a glimpse of Cardin Winchester, sneering at the downed figure of Jaune Arc. Jaune, who was still lying down on the floor, looked away dejectedly. She almost felt pity for the boy. Almost.

She looked over the sea of students. Some looked interested in the match, others just bored. She could see Jaune's partner, Ms. Pyrrha Nikos looking with concern over the blond boy. A ways to the left, she saw the rest of Cardin's team giving high-fives and laughing, most likely at Mr. Arc. _Some people can be sore losers, but there are also worse winners._

She internally sighed before announcing in an unattached, even voice, "Students, as you can see, Mr. Arc's aura has dropped into the red. In a tournament style duel, this would indicate that Jaune is no longer fit for battle, and that the official may call the match."

She folded her hands in front of her, disappointment weighing down her shoulders ever so slightly, "Mr. Arc, it's been weeks now. Please try to refer to your scroll during combat. Gauging your aura will help you decide when it is appropriate to attack. Or when it is better to move to a more… defensive strategy."

She turned to the student in question, still laying on the floor, analyzing his scroll. He sighed to himself.

She regarded his down-trodden expression before adding, "We wouldn't want you to be gobbled up by a Beowolf now. Would we?"

She almost missed Cardin's remark, "Speak for yourself."

Going through her mental list of announcements, she turned her attention to the masses once more. She only had a couple more seconds before the lunch bell, then to report to the Headmaster. While giving the announcements about the Vytal Festival, she still kept tabs on the young Arc, still not bothering to get up from the floor of the arena._ His disappointment is only outweighed by his guilt._

*_Brrrrriiiiinng*_

She watched the students exit towards the cafeteria. Turning back to the arena, she took out her riding crop and waved it towards the closet near the change rooms. A broom and dustpan flew out of it. The two now animated objects floated over to the arena where she waved her crop, then began sweeping the floor of the rotund, elevated stage.

*_Tap*_

_*Tap*_

_*Tap*_

She heard his cane hitting the floor behind her. Puzzled, she turned around to regard his figure: evergreen suit that formed to his persona with complimenting grass-green scarf covering his neck, moonlight-coloured cane in left hand, mug of coffee in his right, silver hair haphazardly strewn upon his head, opaque circular spectacles sitting precariously past the bridge of his nose. His chocolate eyes revealed nothing.

"Headmaster, I assume you are here for the report?" she inquired. Her gaze was level, almost indifferent.

He smiled softly before tilting the mug to hide his mouth.

"No need with formalities Glynda. Yes, I'm here for your rep-"

"He shouldn't be at Beacon." She interrupted.

Ozpin raised his eyebrow at the disciplinarian, "Oh? What makes you say that?"

"He may have shown great leadership and tactical skill during initiation, but he has yet to physically improve his combat abilities, even less on his aura control. Not to mention his academic performance. And I hope you haven't forgotten his transcripts!" she ranted.

Glynda had nothing against the Arc heir. Quite the opposite: she cared about his wellbeing and his future, as any other teacher would, despite his method of entry (She was disappointed in him about that). She knew the dangers of her occupation and the training that came with that, and she did not want someone as innocent and to put it bluntly, weak, as Jaune Arc to be exposed to the grim profession of being a Hunter. Regardless of his talents, background, or familial influence, the job would change him. Perhaps for worse. That was why she was adamant about Ms. Rose's admission too.

"Give him a chance. Let him grow more." The headmaster replied calmly.

"Ozpin, he's already being bullied by other students. Take Cardin Winchester for example." She opened her scroll to display security footage.

Ozpin looked at the scroll with disinterest. Of course, he's seen all this before, "Being a Hunter requires one to solve their own problems." He stated.

"They're not Hunters, they're children!" she countered heatedly.

He chuckled softly, "I hope you see the irony in this situation, Glynda."

He paused to take a sip. "I have faith that he will overcome his problems. He has a team. Friends he can rely on. As you had yours, and I had mine."

Glynda contemplated his statement. A deep memory rose to the surface. Four silhouetted teenagers came to the forefront of her mind.

"_Six o'clock Glynda!"_

"_Got it!"_

"_Bart, make us some room!"_

_"Roger Dodger!"_

Glynda crossed her arms and pouted. Of course he was right. He always seemed to be right.

"I find it intriguing that you chose Beowolves... No matter. I'm sure you would like some tea?"

He turned around and walked down the main aisle. Glynda swung her crop back at the arena, causing the dustpan and broom to fly to their respective places once more. She turned and walked after him, her heels echoing with his cane.

* * *

"Sugar?"

"Please."

Ozpin got up and went to the cupboards while Glynda idly stirred her chamomile tea. They decided to retire to her office for the lunch hour. Walking to the Spires would have taken up most of their time, and they had business not meant for other staff.

Her office was a simple space, with a table and three chairs as well as shelves and some foliage. She kept a plug-in kettle to make hot drinks, which was exactly how she had made the tea sitting in front of her.

"Something's on your mind."

She was startled out of her daydreaming by his voice from the cupboards. She turned to see him looking at her, sugar bowl in hand.

"Nothing. Just… spacing out" She replied with a small smile.

He made his way back to his seat. Taking two sugar cubes from the bowl, he placed them in her cup. She thanked him before stirring the tea.

"It was a statement. Not a question."

She stopped stirring. The swirling golden liquid lost its rhythm as her spoon stopped moving.

"It's nothing important." She muttered.

His gaze never wavered. Hers shifted to anywhere but to meet his.

"When we were younger, you were much more like a certain blond first year…"

Her eyes snapped up and wide open to regard his passive stare. Her cheeks tinted a bright red as her mouth opened and closed, unable to form any coherent argument. He smirked, causing her to immediately retort out in embarrassment.

"I'll have you know that I am nothing like Ms. Xiao Long-"

"I meant another blond." He cut in quickly. Yeesh, that wasn't even _close_ to what he was referring to.

She looked away, the blush in her cheeks slowly dying down. She looked back at him with knit eyebrows.

_But if not me, then who…? No…_ The pieces fell together.

"Jaune Arc?"

From behind his mug he nodded.

She crossed her legs in disgust and turned to face the cupboard, away from him. Her back straightened and her nose was held high, eyes closed with the indignation she felt. She scoffed, "Feh! I had nothing in common with the young Arc. I was an exemplary student in my days!"

His gaze shifted downward to his hands, curved around the coffee cup. He spoke in a whisper, but the melancholy was apparent, "Not in Forever Fall. Not that one year."

She glared at him, her emerald eyes attempting to bore through his head.

"You think I don't know that?" Her voice, a pitch lower, quavered, indignation replaced with anger.

How dare he mention that! How dare he dredge up her past as if it were small talk!

"You think I don't know that I'm responsible? That **I** put my team at risk by rushing in? That **I** almost got my best friend killed?" She lowered her head, her free hair falling to obscure her face, the bun on her head now facing the ceiling. She clenched and unclenched her trembling hand.

_Why would he bring this up? Why now? Didn't he know?_

Warmth surrounded her cold, uncontrolled hand. She opened her eyes, regarding her arm with a blank expression. His hand was holding hers, gripping it firmly but caressing gently. It gave warmth when she felt none before. She looked at him, puzzled.

His face was set. His eyebrows slightly furrowed and mouth in a thin line. He knew. Of course he knew.

"I _think_ that ever since then, you've focused solely on your work, trying to make yourself better so that the same incident doesn't happen again. I _think_ that your constant working caused you to drift from your teammates, isolating you from everyone else."

He laid both hands on hers and stared intensely into her eyes, "I _think_ that you are too hard on yourself, Glynda, especially when you know he doesn't blame you for it."

He smiled at her. She smiled back. They drank their respective drinks in silence for the rest of lunch.

* * *

*_knock knock knock_*

The door opened slightly for his face to be revealed from inside. He was still in his suit, she noted._ Good, that won't make it more awkward._

"Did you need something Glynda?"

He jarred her from her thoughts.

She stuttered, "Hi! Yes, can we talk?"

He smiled before opening the door fully, "Of course. My office is always open."

He walked back to his desk and sat behind it. She followed and sat in the chair in front.

Upon his desk was a set of fine chinaware.

She raised an eyebrow, "No caffeine?"

He chuckled in response, "I find coffee to be exquisite in the mornings, palatable during the day, but downright noxious in the middle of the night. That's only between the two of us, of course." He mischievously winked after that, causing her to roll her eyes.

He poured a cup of tea and placed it in front of her.

"So what was it you wanted to talk about?"

She shuffled nervously in her seat, "Well, it's about… that year. In Forever Fall."

His expression never shifted, "What did you want to discuss?"

"How, was I like Jaune Arc?"

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, "First, tell me what happened there. I was only there for the aftermath."

She fiddled with her cup before answering, "It was a training mission: exterminate the Grimm from the area with teacher supervision…"

_The four of them ran through the forest. They had caught sight of a lone beowolf scout._

"_James, we're gonna lose its trail if we don't do something!"_

_Their leader turned to the left to regard green hair and spectacles, "Bart! Scout ahead, make sure to keep out of sight!"_

"_On it!" the green-haired man zipped past the rest of them, hot on their prey's heels._

He sipped his coffee, "You found a beowolf lair and exterminated it, correct?"

"It wasn't that simple."

"How so?"

"There was more than just beowolves, and I wasn't as strong as I am now."

"_Glynda, we need a repulse to get them airborne. You got enough Aura?"_

_She turned to her dark-haired leader, "It'll leave me exhausted afterwards though!"_

_He looked at their other teammates, "Adrian, can we count on you to cover her? Bart, you're on firing squad with me."  
_

"_You got it James."_

"_A-okay!"_

_The three of them batted the Wolves of Darkness away from their witch as she prepared herself. Purple light shimmered around her, bent under her manipulations to trace a circle on the ground underneath the four of them._

"_Now!"_

_She opened her eyes and sliced her crop downward towards the earth. The area around them was blown back and upwards by the shockwave she created. The Grimm surrounding them were suspended in midair._

_Their leader, James, armed his gauntlets and let his soul flow into them. Both glowed white as he raised his hands towards his targets. Unleashing his power, white beams of pure energy flew out of them, tearing through the targeted beowolves. Beside him, Bart fired his own flaming projectiles._

_In no time, the lair had been cleared of any more beowolves, much to the relief of the four students starting to make their way back to the supervising professor._

"That isn't what I saw…"

"That repulse spell did more than blow the beowolves back. There was a cave near the site."

_The crunching of falling trees and the rumbling ground beneath made them stop in fear. Just from behind, the trunks bent outwards to reveal white carapace, red eyes, and a floating yellow teardrop._

"_Death Stalker!" Cried Adrian._

"_We're out of ammo and Aura, James!" Bart called._

"_I'll hold it off, you guys retreat!" James called back. The large scorpion was getting closer._

_Glynda walked to stand beside her leader and friend._

"_We're the only ones with any effective weaponry, you two head back to professor Port."_

"_But you're still weak from that last spell, can you hold it back?"_

"_I've got enough."_

"The two of you tried to hold off a Death Stalker?" he inquired.

"You know Adrian wasn't the fastest, especially when put next to Bartholomew."

_Hesitantly, their two comrades turned and ran for their teacher, leaving Glynda and James to face the Death Stalker._

_James unleashed a blast from his gauntlet while Glynda threw large rocks and uprooted trees at it, slowing the Grimm down. They leapt out of the way as it crashed through their position._

_James fired another beam at the back of its tail to no avail. It turned around, snapping its pincers at the two of them._

"_I don't have enough Aura to pierce the shell with my beams!" he called to his partner._

"_I can't cast anything either. We only need to stall it until help arrives!" she called back._

_The two of them circled around it, the beast following their trail._

"_Let's lead it back to the others, then they can finish it there!" James planned._

"_I'll go high, you go low!" Glynda explained, crouching down to begin her run._

"_Glynda, wait-" he started, but it was too late, she had already launched forward._

_He could only follow her as she ran._

_She ducked under a swinging pincer, then leapt up over the stinger, approaching the other side of it._

_*Thwack!*_

_She was pushed forward by an unseen force from behind. She crashed to her hands and knees, confused, but clear of danger. She turned back to see James on the ground to the right, the Death Stalker slowly creeping up on his disoriented and unguarded form. Its stinger loomed overhead, a harbinger of what was to come. He wouldn't get up in time._

_She sprinted towards him, putting every ounce of her soul into her actions, waving her crop at the stinger, pushing it away from James. He scrambled to his feet, just as the stinger flew past him, to land into the ground next to where he had laid. He ducked under one pincer, jumped over the other, and leapt towards its face, landing right on its shell. Pushing both gauntlets onto the carapace, Glynda could see him channelling his Aura into it. The blinding light prevented her from advancing, the following explosion knocking her back, towards the trees. _

_She fell down, eyesight readjusting and ears slowly clearing. Her ears still rang and her vision was fading in and out, but what she saw scared her. To the left, James was prone again, smoke billowing from him. He wasn't moving. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. The Death Stalker was swaying from side to side, two burn spots with spider-web cracks running along the top of its shell._

_She had to save him, she had to save her partner, her friend._

_She slumped to her knees and fell onto her side. She couldn't move, she was too exhausted, too beaten to do anything. If only she had trained harder, if she was stronger, had more control over her semblance, then maybe it would have been different. _

_The fringes of her sight were fading black, but she could see the Death Stalker swaying less, focusing on her now. A foot blocked her view. A black loafer to be exact. She tried to look up, to see camouflage clothing upon her savior's person. "No, it's a suit." She realized. Shocks of silver hair adorned his head, his face was away from her, but she could tell he was handsome in a way. He held what looked like a flaming sword in his right hand, pointed at the Grimm. That was all she could make out before she slipped into unconsciousness._

"And then you know the rest: I woke up in the hospital with a concussion and bruised bones, James had skin grafting done on his arms. His right hand still isn't fully healed. And he had surgery for that… thing in his head now."

She looked into her cup, staring at the orange liquid, "I rushed in without thinking, without planning, and little to no regard for my limits or abilities. And someone paid for my carelessness." She set the cup down.

He put his cup down and grasped her hand, "It's in the past, Glynda. You've proven yourself time and again over the years. To me, to your friends, to your team. You've learned since then. There is no need to torture yourself over this."

She got up to leave.

"It's a reminder, Oz. A reminder that this isn't just a game. It's not an act. It's a job with risks. I live with my guilt so I remind myself what is at risk. So people under my care don't die. So my friends won't die!"

"What good is that if you lose your friends in the process?"

She paused and thought on what he said. She _did_ start to do things on her own, especially in later years. They almost all split up. Bart went to get his doctorate, James went to Atlas, and Adrian traipsed through the kingdoms. And she, she worked hard to keep in control, to discipline her power. She hardly saw her teammates, who were now her colleagues.

_And what about him?_

"_You're awake."_

_She opened her eyes to look at the old man._

_Wait. Not old, just peculiar._

_His silver hair contrasted with his boyish face, his toned figure sitting in the chair leaned forward, his arms draped on a rapier._

_She stared at him in confusion._

_She croaked, "James.."_

"_Rest easy, your partner is alive. In surgery, but alive." He responded, handing her a glass of water._

_She downed it quickly and attempted to get out of bed. His arm pushed her shoulder back down._

_She looked at him._

"_Concussion from hitting the tree. You'd fall down from dizziness." He explained._

"_I have to train." She blurted._

_He looked at her quizzically._

"_I have to train to get stronger. So this doesn't happen again. So that I'm not weak. So that they can depend on me. So they can trust me."_

"_And your team?"_

"…_What about them?"_

"_They won't just let you do things on your own. It'd be more prudent to include them in your plans."_

"_THEY don't need it. I do." She crossed her arms._

_He sighed. Getting up from his chair, he turned to exit. Before he left, he regarded her once more, "Okay. I'll let you make the choice. But I'll be close by if you need help."_

He had stayed by her side, always giving advice, always keeping an eye on her.

She turned to the headmaster, "I never lost you, Oz."

He smiled, "Guilt is a burden best shared."

He walked to see her out the door.

"Especially with friends who understand."

**A/N** Some of you are probably asking, "WTF is this?" Again I apologize for this very 'bleh' chapter which was impossible to write and even worse to read. I tried. Honestly I did. I'm not sure where I was actually going with this. It's just we don't see much from Glynda Goodwitch so it's difficult to see her as anything but the hard-assed disciplinarian we know. Not to mention, a fic like this that relies on characters' trauma/experiences when not knowing about it leaves endless possibilities. In the end, all I could do is try and then get feedback on the attempt. Speaking of feedback, please review or PM with ideas for improvements, or even just to say it was a crap chapter. Cuz I'm not satisfied and I want to rewrite this one especially. Okay. 2 more chapters left, hopefully not as long a wait or half-assed either. Also, any other authors out there who are never satisfied with their content, or is it just me?


	4. Ch4 A mug of Joe to look to the future

**A/N** Alright! So I finally got this done! Sorry for the wait, but this was most likely the hardest chapter I had to write. My god I can't believe I was able to come up with something! That's how bad it was. As keeping with the whole theme of A Prof's Perspective, this chapter will be about Ozpin… and sorta not really. The past three chapters have been about the memories of the staff, or their _past experiences_. With Ozpin, I did the opposite: instead of _past_ _events_, I decided to write about _events yet to come._ I had originally planned 3 different instances, but decided to cap at 2, cuz the 3rd one was sort of mediocre as compared to the other two. Anyways, I'll let you read and find out.

**Chapter 4: A mug of Joe to look to the future**

This place… was not familiar to him. He could not remember such a magnificent colosseum as belonging to him, nor could the fighters in the pits bring any memories to him. He could not remember why the drink in his hand tasted so bitter, unlike his usual wine, nor why his solid gold laurel felt clunky upon his head, weighing him down. He remembered ruling though, and strategy, and entertainment. He knew why he was here: as Caesar, he would pass judgement upon the worthy.

He looked over his throne to see the monk and black Samurai back-to-back against albino wolves atop a lone stadium, surrounded by a moat. The wolves were pure white with red eyes, yet they still held the same ferocity and hatred he knew very well. At least, he thought he knew well.

The wolves closed in slowly, then stopped feet away. Four silver griffins screeched from the Cardinal points, boxing them all in the colosseum. None would escape without their help.

Metal clanged from below his booth. Leaping from a lower platform, a giant bronze figure descended upon the monk and samurai, forcing them to dive away from each other's company. The gladiator wielded two large torches in each hand, standing between the monk and samurai. He watched as they were surrounded by the wolves with their growling and gnashing teeth. Both defended valiantly, holding their would-be predators back.

The monk held his own with naught but nunchaku and drunken fist, mixed in perfect harmony. A third of the wolves went down before the rest backed away to a safe distance.

The samurai cut through the wolves using Nito Ryu form, his swords staining the sand with the blood of the slain. He did not stop his momentum, even as more wolves ascended from the pits.

The gladiator lumbered towards the monk, battering the wolves away to get to his target. As the left torch came down, the monk turned and swept it away with a roundhouse kick. However, the gladiator just followed his momentum, spinning around. The other torch smashed into the monk's side, throwing their whole body to the ground. The gladiator didn't even look to the throne for confirmation as he raised the torch for the killing blow.

Just then, the Legion curtain could be heard tearing. From across his throne, Caesar looked to see Thanatos, cloaked in the blood of its victims, silver eyes glistening in the dying sun's light, just like its scythe. To the side, he saw the knight Gawain encased in impregnable wooden armour, dozens of string-like vines sprouting from different places.

The gladiator threw one torch like a javelin in response. Thanatos consumed the entire projectile into its body without even a flinch. Gawain took action immediately after, leaping from atop their perch to deliver a shockwave as he impacted the ground. From his feet, roots and greenery spiked up, impaling many of the wolves and denting the Gladiator's armour. The silver griffins buffeted their wings, slowly lifting off the ground and circling around the chaos. Their talons picked up many of the wolves, most likely to return them to the safety of the cages. The Gladiator had grabbed one of the griffin too. Gawain would have none of that. Stretching his hands outwards, the vines from his armour flew towards the griffin and entangled their feet. The gladiator raised his torch, burning the vines and setting his griffin free, leaving the other three to meet their fate. Neither Thanatos nor Gawain did anything as the last griffin flew away.

Trumpets blared to conclude the tournament, but their noise grew louder every moment. He covered his ears to stop the painful noise, but it only kept growing. The fighters seemed unaffected, even as the stadium shattered under their feet. The performers fell into the cracks below or floated into the broken sky above. Even Caesar was not immune to the effects of gravity, as he fell farther, past the realm of Hades, until he could see a light fast approaching him.

* * *

*_ring ring ring ring ring*_

He shot up rigid as a board. He turned to his scroll to see the caller identification.

"Answer." He said, before turning back to his desktop and taking a swig from his mug.

"Ozpin, it's Glynda. I'm at the police station right now with a Miss Ruby Rose. I assume you've already seen the security footage?" The blonde asked with an inflection of irritability.

"Rose… that's Qrow's niece, correct?" Ozpin asked. On the screen, Glynda nodded in response.

"I'll look at the footage on my way there… How is Miss Rose?"

"Extremely uncomfortable. My reputation as a disciplinarian safely remains intact." She smirked in amusement.

"Good. That's good to hear. I'll be there in fifteen." He replied absently before viewing the sent footage.

He froze at the sight of the teenager in action. It wasn't her prodigious skill that shocked him.

The flashing crimson cape drew his attention. It seemed similar to someone, or something, but he couldn't remember what, nor why it seemed so important. He stared into the silver eyes frozen on his screen. It shook him to his core.

"I'm going to enroll her in Beacon." He stated.

"What?"

"I'm going to enroll her in Beacon." He repeated.

"That's absurd! She's very talented, but think about how it will affect her: socially uprooted from her class, pushed two years ahead, expectations thrust upon her from everyone. She won't make it far Ozpin. Not with the training that she's had up till now."

"Qrow trained her personally. If he trained her anything like he trains himself, I have complete confidence in her abilities."

"But if she fails?"

She was right, of course. There would be lots of pressure on a fourteen year old. Or was it fifteen? Sixteen? And no guarantee that she would succeed every time.

"It's important Glynda. I just know it."

Glynda sighed, "Fine. But she has to accept it too, you know."

He smiled, "I can get her to do that."

* * *

"Ozpin, that's your fifth cup in the last three hours. Even I don't take that much caffeine. And that's saying something."

"I'm fine Bart. I need to focus on this." He turned back to view the live feed on his scroll.

He first heard about it on the news, then proceeded to look out his window to see smoke billowing into the night sky from the docks. He figured a hunter or two would be needed, so he dispatched Port, who was lively as always, but at the same time took a very disciplined and serious approach. He went without questions, ordered only to observe and report. That's what he was viewing right now.

"If I might say so, Ozpin, it seems that one of our first year teams was involved in this predicament!" The Portly professor stated from the other end of Vale. The live feed zoomed up on a petite figure in a red hood. There was no doubt who that figure was.

"Ruby Rose…"

"Ahem. I'll inform Glynda that we'll need to uh… subsidize some unexpected finances. We'll have the papers ready in the morning for delivery." Oobleck turned and walked, as in walked like a normal man, out of the room, leaving the headmaster alone with his own thoughts.

_Cloaked in red, wielding a scythe, two black swords, nunchaku, Torchwick. This… This has happened before… I know it._ The headmaster reasoned._ It wasn't here though… Where did this happen? Why can't I remember?_

Frustrated, he finished his coffee and got up to take a walk. He walked silently, save for the clacking of his cane and oxfords on the marble floors. Before long, he found himself in the gardens, staring at the multiple plants and trees in place.

A creaking gate caught his attention. Ozpin turned to the left to regard a small alcove, surrounded by rusted iron gates. The outside looked decrepit and out of date. However, within stood four trees full of life, shining vividly beneath the shattered moon.

He slowly pushed the gate open, taking tentative steps into the peaceful area. A small stream could be heard bubbling somewhere. Fireflies were buzzing about the four trees, giving an ambient glow. The trees were each a different species. To the right, swaying in the wind, was a palm tree. Next to it stood a pine tree, towering a little over it. To the very left was a fig tree. To the right of that was a maple tree, its leaves healthy and firm. The trees were planted close together, so much so that vines interconnected the trees together, like a large web.

Ozpin approached the maple tree, observing the surroundings carefully. He could see the light of the fireflies being reflected off something engraved in the trunk. He moved closer to get a better look. The object glinted in the yellow bioluminescence. He moved until he was under the branches of the maple, where he was able to clearly see what the embedded object was. It was a heart shaped out of clear crystal. It was odd for something so clearly man-made to be a part of something that occurred naturally.

He reached out to touch the crystal, only for it to crack in two and split in half. His disappointment turned into fear as the broken pieces burst into flames at the base of the maple, spreading quickly up the trunk, to catch the branches alight. He stepped back for his own safety, but it was all for naught, as the grass caught fire around him, trapping him inside the alcove. He could only watch in horror as the vines connecting the trees caught fire too, spreading fire form the maple to the other three trees. It was both magnificent and terrifying at the same time.

Despite his training, he froze in shock and fear. The whole alcove had become a roaring forest fire, spreading to everything and everywhere. He helplessly watched as the three other trees tumbled to the ground, burning to ashes and charcoal. He looked at the last standing tree, the maple tree, and saw it pitch forward, towards him. He did nothing but stare, even as it fell down. He closed his eyes, and waited for the inevitable.

* * *

*_Ding_*

His head shot up as the percolator chimed. He looked around to see his same office space, cogs turning and gears grinding, as per normal. He could still feel the heat from the fire, singed into his memory. He shivered involuntarily before checking his scroll. 0:14 am. It had only been five minutes since Oobleck had left. He returned to the live feed Port was streaming. It was still focused on the young prodigy.

The message button blinked on the top right of his scroll. He opened the new message, reading the text as it formed on the screen.

**Qrow**

**Team: _ _ _ _**

**MSG: QUEEN HAS PAWNS**

**A/N **And we'll end there for the time being. If you didn't guess, I'm going off the premise that Ozpin has a Seer-type semblance: he can see the future. However, not the specifics of where, when, and how. It alludes to the events with metaphor instead of just copying and pasting the events from the potential future into his mind's eye, which I feel is a cop-out and more than a little OP. It seems cliché and it's not as poetic to me either. So, he sees the future, just in metaphor. I said a little about it earlier, but I wanted to go all the way to the end of Vol.2 with the Breach, but that last future-dream was so good I couldn't really top it. Not to mention, it wouldn't be as interesting either. To the person who can guess the event the last future-dream was about, I'll give cookies! Or a whole fic idea for them to use. Or an honourable mention. I'm not sure. If you have a preference, I'm all ears. And, as always, drop a review or PM your thoughts on this fic or stories you'd like to see written! I'm always open to ideas and feedback!


	5. Holiday Update

Dear readers,

Don't worry, this ain't some crappy goodbye or half-assed unfulfilling ending. I'm just writing to wish you all a happy holidays and give a bit of an update.

Now the status of this story... I intend to finish this fic. No ifs, ands, or butts about it. Yes, I said ifs, grow up children lol ;)

I also wanted to inform you as to why the next chapter is taking so long. Initially, I wanted to create a character for the not-yet shown Professor Peach. So I planned out the events and started writing. I ended up finishing and was considering posting it. Then I went back to re-read it. I was disappointed in it. Not the chapter, but the writing.

It turned from a chapter about the feelings and perspective of a professor, to a chapter solely about wish-fulfillment and/or OC/self-insert. As a writer, this was not my goal for this fic; as a reader, I don't like OCs/self-inserts the majority of the time. This wasn't an exception. I want to improve my writing and storytelling, not live my fantasies through the medium of literature. Again, my apologies for no update, my apologies for not following my initial goal for this fic, and lastly, my apologies for letting you guys down these past months. I'm sorry I couldn't do better than what I've done. This is all I can give and sadly, it's not enough. If you'll wait for the next chapter, I promise to deliver A Prof's Perspective, as the title says.

Wishing you happy holidays,

Fernachos


	6. Ch5 A flask of Whiskey to forget our woe

**A/N:** Hello guys, Fernachos here and I got some good news and bad news. The good news is that this is an actual chapter! Again, my apologies for the extended break/hiatus. Writing, as I've found out, can be very difficult. I was stumped on this chapter but I somehow got it finished, if you can even call it that. The bad news now, is that this is probably the last chapter I'll write for this fic. I'll talk more at the end. Now some of you will probably point out "Hey, he's not a legit professor!". Well, you're correct, he wasn't a professor, but he was most definitely a mentor and teacher. This is a fanfic about the teachers. Therefore, he qualifies for it. Also, props to you people who get the Sci-fi references I've put in here. Anywho, I'll stop the interludes. Please enjoy!

**Chapter 5: A flask of Whiskey to forget our woe**

He watched her carefully, analyzing every movement, every action she performed. He was her mentor, of course. It was his job to determine if she was meeting their training expectations.

"Form five, attack pattern soresu." He stated. She reacted without hesitance, dropping her stance slightly and angling the shaft of her weapon horizontal to her midriff. The crescent blade sliced through the air as she seamlessly went through her kata.

"Alright Ruby, break time!" He called to her from the side.

"Woohoo! Snack time!" Ruby cheered, dashing to her mentor's side. He watched as she opened a paper bag, from seemingly nowhere, and take out a dozen or so chocolate chip cookies. He couldn't help but chuckle as she mumbled with joy once she finished.

"You're a bit addicted to those, y'know." He snorted.

"That's not fair uncle Qrow, and you know it!" Ruby exclaimed, pointing to the flask in his hand.

Qrow turned to regard the silver container in his right hand, before taking a swig from it.

"…Fair point. How 'bout we don't mention either of our… interests… to anyone?" He held his hand out to the teen.

Ruby scrunched her face in thought, before beaming and grasping her uncle's hand, "Deal!"

"Great, now back to work. Forms three to seven, Vapaad defense pattern. Then after that, we'll get a spar on."

Her face paled at the idea. He smirked, reading her train of thought, "Don't worry, I ain't sparring you today."

He chuckled when she sighed in relief, "I've been going easy on ya too."

She threw herself into practice, performing her defence forms for him to analyze. He watched carefully, regarding her stance. He didn't say a word as she continued, observing with scrutiny. He couldn't help the pride he felt for teaching her so well.

_You'd be proud of her, Summer._ He thought wistfully.

Unbidden, his team leader came to mind. Her smile, her laugh, he could hear them again, even as he watched her legacy attack and defend in a perfect mirror of himself.

"Jeez Qrow, you're getting sentimental." He mumbled to himself.

He uncorked the flask and took a swig, the burning liquid cleansing him of his nostalgia.

He continued watching his niece, her movements slowing down as he inspected her every action. He couldn't help but notice how Ruby took after her mother in regards to physical features. It was an uncanny resemblance.

He shook his head._ Focus bub, you're supposed to be training her, not comparing her._

He tilted the flask to his lips again, savouring the taste of his poison.

He regarded his niece once more, "Alright S…- Ruby… Sparring time. Get ready." He announced even-toned.

He watched her ready herself as he reached for the remote in his pocket.

"So uh… who am I sparring exactly, uncle Qrow?" she looked at him curiously.

Metal scraped against metal. Loud buzzing came from the other side of the room. Qrow grinned even as a robot brandished cleavers in each arm.

"That thing." He nodded at the droid as it stalked up to its prey, his student.

The machine stopped three feet away from Ruby, awaiting further instruction with its hands at its sides.

Ruby stared at it quizzically, waiting for it to take the first move. She took a step towards it. This set it off, immediately slashing at her with its left blade.

Ruby stepped back, avoiding the blade entirely. Qrow watched the exchange, his student and his invention trading and blocking each other's blows. He was impressed with her improvements, being able to hold her own against an almost unstoppable force.

The droid delivered an overhead strike, faster than Ruby anticipated. She tried to block it, quickly bringing up Crescent Rose in an attempt to meet the blade head on. The block wasn't fast enough and pushed Ruby back a couple feet, catching her off balance.

Qrow tensed, leaning forward with his hand reaching for his own weapon.

_Calm down, this is her fight. No interfering. _He chided himself, relaxing his stance and resuming to drink once more.

He glanced at Ruby again, noting her furrowed brow. She was determined now, he saw. This didn't bode well for his robot.

Qrow watched as she went to work, blocking, attacking, and countering with ease and grace.

His mind may have been dulled by the alcohol, but he could still analyze every move she made with clarity. Unwanted, Summer came to his mind's eye again, overlapping Ruby's form. The weapon was different, but the movements were the same, down to the rose petals that scattered around the room with her shifting form.

The room fell away from him, replacing itself with a green forest. He saw Summer cutting down swaths of minor Grimm, that same look of determination written on her face.

He unconsciously smiled at the memory, even as the clashing of metal brought him back to the present.

"C'mon Ruby, stop playing around with it." He jested while turning up the dial on the remote.

The robot intensified its attacks, moving the blades faster and swinging harder. Red flitted in and out of his field of vision, rose petals flying about the room.

He tried to focus, but his vision couldn't distinguish between the rapidly moving bodies. He found himself struggling to catch even a glimpse of his prodigy student.

He turned from the fight, rubbing a newly-forming migraine away from his temples.

A loud clang brought his attention back to the ring. He saw Ruby, with her weapon locked against the cleavers, staring down the blank armored face. The droid twitched, mechanics exerting as much force as possible against the petite girl, who stood stock-still against it, sweat beading from her brow. He saw her frown turn into a smirk.

She moved fast, but the movement seemed to slow down in his mind's eye. A twirl of the staff, spinning off the foot, a jump with a double kick, followed by a diagonal slash across the chest. The movement was imbued with a finesse he hadn't seen in years. It was gone in a moment, etched forever into his memory. He gazed in awe. It wasn't the grace or the talent he was amazed at: those were almost a given. No, it was the familiarity he sensed from the flourish, the nostalgia from the stance, that made him edge closer.

She turned to face him, silver eyes freezing his heart, piercing his soul. They were full of wonder and innocence. She smiled at him and he bathed in the warmth it carried: the joy and love seeming to blanket the room. He found himself smirking back with pride.

"So how'd I do?" she asked, brows raised in anticipation.

He spoke. He was sure he spoke, if not for the creaking and groaning of metal.

A shadow overcast her form, black claws raised above her head to strike at her form. Qrow didn't remember moving. He didn't remember drawing his weapon. All he could remember was the fear. Cold, overpowering fear, spiking through his veins, boiling into rage as he hacked at the felled beast. There was no method, no technique, to his movements, just repetition. Over and over, he hacked away. He'd tear it to shreds before it touched her, then tear those shreds into smaller ones. He hacked until his vision blurred. Hacked until he only saw red, and he continued hacking, until the thing stopped moving at his feet.

He stood up, heaving in large breaths. He stepped away from the carcass to fall onto his bottom. His sword was standing upright in the gory wreckage. He wiped his face of an unknown liquid, smiling to himself. He'd saved her. He knew he'd save her this time. He chuckled.

"Uncle Qrow? Why are you crying?" a small voice quivered.

He froze, eyes widening in shock. Slowly, he turned to regard his niece, hugging her weapon tightly between her arms. Those determined silver eyes now shook in fear. Fear of him.

"Holy smokes! Did a hurricane pass through here or something?" Someone announced from the doorway.

"Rav-" he began before stopping to stare at the blonde locks that flowed from the visitor's head. She raised a brow questioningly.

He turned away in panic, doing the only thing he knew how: he uncorked his flask and downed the last of its contents before turning to his elder niece and pointing at the clock.

"Yang on a minute, we're not done yet." He over-slurred his speech. He was answered with a smirk and an eye-roll.

He stepped towards Ruby, kneeling and ruffling her hair, "Lookit whatcha made me do, bust my only training droid."

She whined and flayed her arms about, "You're the one that broke it, meanie!"

He smiled, "That's cuz ya forgot ta switch'er off."

Ruby frowned, "I'm sorry… are you mad?"

It hurt him to see that frown. It hurt him to be the cause of such doubt. He wanted to ease her mind, console her of her anxieties, but damn it all, he didn't know how to express it, so out-of-tune was he with such emotions. He rolled his eyes and ruffled her head.

"Next time, make sure your opponent can't get up before you turn your back. 'kay?"

Ruby smiled back, "Okay."

Qrow sighed, "Good. Now scram, or else yer cleaning up my mess!" he smirked, messing her hair up once more as he nudged her towards her sister.

"Tell yer dad to save me some stir-fry!" He called to Yang.

"What, bones starting to ache, ya old crow?" came the snide remark.

He laughed sarcastically, "har dee har har. Get outta here or these damages are coming from your allowance!"

"We're gone!"

He heard her call out as the air whistled behind the two of them walking away.

He swayed towards the doorway, leaning on it and sighing heavily. He looked at the scraps of the droid for a few seconds before turning away. He could hear the two sisters chatting excitedly.

"Oh hey, guess what Ruby? I got accepted into Beacon!"

"Ohmygosh! That's sooooo awesome! You've gotta call every day and tell me what's going on and what classes are like… Oh! And what your team is like and what weapons they use, and I **have** to meet them as soon as you all come home!"

The two of them laughed and giggled as they walked down the hallway.

Qrow frowned to himself, watching them follow in the footsteps of their parents.

**A/N **So I mentioned earlier that this'll probs be the last chapter of A Prof's Perespective. Why so? I've exhausted all trains of thought and run out of ideas. This chapter alone took 5+ months of simmering in my brain before I finished it. The main problem here was that I had an idea I wanted to express, but I had no idea how to express it. When I planned each chapter here, it played like a movie in my head and I blocked each chapter based on that imaginary scenario. The problem with that was that I might have had a good scene for a couple sections, but they were disjointed, with no connection as to how I got from point A to point B. Knowing this, hopefully my writing can improve. Maybe not with this fic, but others. Will I ever revisit this? Maybe I will, when I've had more experience in both writing and planning a story. In the meantime, I'll consider this story finished. Thanks to all of you who have read this. I'm pleased that people found this worth reading. It was my first attempt at any writing and while not the best, I can learn from it. Also thanks to reviewers! You pointed out flaws in the story and things that I wouldn't ever have noticed because of my bias as the writer. Thanks for all your feedback! I now pronounce A Prof's Perspective completed. Until next time,

Fernachos


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